


Baby in a Blanket

by orphan_account



Series: Baby in a Blanket [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harry Potter is raised by a terrifying family, Inspired by 007’s Baby in a Blanket, M/M, May become mature later on when Q and Bond get together, Q is the youngest Holmes brother, more tags as story progresses, this is going to be fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: On a quiet’s night walk back from finishing a mission 007 is in the vicinity of Privet Drive and he unknowingly witnesses an event that would change MI6 as he knows it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverCircuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCircuit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [007's Baby in a Blanket](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8294590) by [SilverCircuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCircuit/pseuds/SilverCircuit). 



> When I read the prompt I knew I needed to write this!! The prompt is in the description. Have a look!

James Bond whistled soft flittering noises, not unlike the singing of a bird, while strolling noiselessly though the quiet empty neighborhood. After every mission, when he returned to England, he always liked to walk in a secluded unpopulated area. Not for reasons of reminding himself why he was doing what he did, he was never so crass.

No, he liked to walk through these quiet neighborhoods because he used the quiet to hone his senses. Every sound, every movement was amplified in the dark quiet of Privet Drive. His icy eyes darted at every small shape of the nocturnal animals creeping around the street; the biggest being that of a small tabby cat.

Taking a detour when he came back to England also had the added benefit of irritating his quartermaster. James savored every minute he was keeping Q from the data drive James had retrieved from the recent mission.

Q was actually going to be pleased for once. James managed to salvage a majority of the tech he brought with him. James smirked to himself, imagining the brief surprise flashing through his usually cool quartermaster. After the customary chewing out for going awol after the mission of course.

James frowned from his vantage in the shadows the moment the soft noises of Privet Drive went unnervingly quiet. It was quiet, too quiet. That definitely wasn’t normal.

Slowly, his icy blue eyes scanned the dark neighborhood when he saw the silhouette of the tabby cat from before moving swiftly in the dark. His eyes narrowed when another, larger, human shape appeared in the corner, next to the cat.

James pursed his lips. Even in the darkness, the double-o agent could tell that this man was old, unfathomably old, wearing strange long clothes like a deep purple bathrobe. Where had this strange man come from? How had James not seen him coming?

The older man retrieved something from his pocket and a soft click resounded in the unusually quiet neighborhood. Years of experience in the field was the only thing that stopped James from flinching when the street lamp nearest him went out with a little pop. He noiselessly ducked behind a shadowed fence as, with the preceding clicks, each street lamp went out.

Through the holes between the wood, James stared as the old man turned to the tabby cat and began speaking to it. James strained his ears but he couldn’t hear anything beyond the low soft muffled voice of the old man. When the voice was joined by an older woman’s, James’ frown deepened.

With a soft tap on his ear piece to activate it, James whispered, “Q.”

James wasn’t surprised to hear nothing from the other end. Whatever device the old man had used must have jammed any electronic device in its vicinity. He drew his sig.

James continued to watch the strangely clad terrorists argue in the dead of night when, suddenly, things got more interesting as a flying vehicle of some kind smashed into the dark road with a resounding crash.

James stared as a enormous man sidled off what appeared to be a motorbike, cradling a bundle of patchwork clothe under one giant arm.

He had never seen a man so large in his entire career, and this was a man, there was no mistaking it for a creature. Silently, he calculated how many bullets could take down such a giant, mentally counting the bullets in his drawn pistol.

While the two older people spoke in quiet whispers before, in the wake of this newcomer, James could hear what they were saying loud and clear.

“Hagrid, at last. And where did you get that motorbike?” The old man said as if flying motorbikes weren’t mechanical marvels that Q would gratefully give half his fortune for.

“Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” the giant man, Hagrid, boomed, “young Sirius Black lent it me. I’ve got him, sir.”

“No problems, were there?”

“No, sir - House was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”

James pursed his lips a fraction, trying to make sense of the words. Obviously, ‘muggle’ was some kind of code word. It made the double-o agent wonder if the rest of the message was some kind of code for other things. _House almost destroyed, he fell asleep..._

He narrowed his eyes at the bundle in the giant’s arms. It was the right size and shape to be a small bomb. Were these terrorists going to plant a sleeper in the middle of this secluded neighborhood?

James watched as the three terrorists continued talking quietly while the two crowded the giant so James couldn’t get a clear view of the bundle. The old man, Professor Dumbledore, took the bundle from the giant’s grasp, cradling it as if it were a baby when the giant rasped, “could I- could I say goodbye to him, sir?”

After the old man nodded, the giant pressed his face to the bundle before letting out an extremely loud howling sound that had James’ finger itching to pull the trigger.

“Shh!” The older woman chastised, “you’ll wake the Muggles!”

There was that word again. James furled his brow, wondering if it meant civilian. This event was becoming more confusing by the second.

“S-s-sorry,” the giant sobbed, “But I c-c-can’t stand it- Lily an’ James dead- an’ poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles-“

“Yes, Yes, it’s all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we’ll be found!” The older woman whispered as she patted her gigantic companion gingerly while the older gentleman stepped towards the front door of one of the residences.

James took this opportunity to slowly, soundlessly crawl towards the house where the three stood. He froze halfway when he found himself looking straight into the twinkling, and James could find no other words to describe them, baby blues of the older man. When the older man turned his attention back to his companions, 007 couldn’t help let out a silent sigh in relief as he swiftly hid behind some hedges.

“Well,” Professor Dumbledore said finally, smiling rather oddly, “we best be off. We have no business staying here. It wouldn’t do for any more Muggles to see us.”

James froze. Was his cover blown? He braced himself for a fight.

But instead of becoming alarmed, the giant man only sniffled and responded affirmative, walking back to his motorbike, while the older woman watched the older man curiously.

“What do you mean, Headmaster?” The older woman asked.

“It remains to be seen,” Dumbledore chuckled, “I expect to see you soon, Professor McGonagall.”

Without asking anymore questions, the older woman turned the corner, leaving the old man behind, who retrieved his device again and returned the lights to the street lamps with a click.

The old man turned his twinkling eyes back to the bundle, saying very loudly, “take care and good luck,” then turning on his heel and vanishing before 007’s very eyes.

James waited for half an hour, contemplating on what he just saw and heard. He tried the coms again only to be met with continuing silence. Well, nothing for it. When he was certain the three were gone and weren’t going to ambush him, he quickly and quietly crept towards the bundle of fabric.

It was a baby. A very healthy baby boy with a tiny lightning bolt shaped birthmark on his forehead. He cooed at James’ approach. James furled his brow as he picked up the child in his arms. Curiouser and curiouser.

James looked through the folded blanket for any traps when he caught the slip of folded paper fall out from beneath the sheets. The letter was not addressed, only saying five words in neatly inked script: ‘His name is Harry Potter.’

 _Hmm..._ James thought to himself, flipping the paper only to see it empty of words, perhaps this was an orphan who was left on the doorstep of a random house.

James stared at the baby coldly. The child was probably going to be sent to orphanage after orphanage, never finding a right place in the world.

The double-o agent was about to leave the child on the mat when the tiny green eyes opened with bright intelligence and grasped his forefinger with tiny fingers. For a heart stopping moment, the child was the splitting image of Q, baby-faced, dark messy hair, sharp eyes which hid a sharper mind...

Suddenly, for some unfathomable reason, James could not bare to leave the child there, unshielded in the cold empty neighborhood. Q had refused to tell anyone of his past, circumventing more quickly and violently than any double-o agent when asked, but James had seen Q file. In the large blank section designated for Q’s childhood it only said that he grew up in an orphanage.

James was a man of instinct and action, and, at that moment, his instinct was telling him to bring the child with him. 007 smiled wickedly as he imagined Q’s stunned reaction. He hoisted the child into his arms, whistling wistfully as he left Privet Drive, oblivious to the twinkling blue eyes watching him.


	2. Chapter 2

_How goes things, brother? -MH_

Q looked down at his cell when he heard the familiar ping. He usually ignored it when he was occupied by whatever ridiculous stunt a double-o pulled, but, seeing as 004’s mission was going surprisingly smoothly and 007 was _unsurprisingly_  AWOL, Q picked up his cell and sent a swift reply.

_Snooping around? Why don’t you contact M directly? -EH_

_M is currently managing an international crisis caused by a certain double-o agent. On that note, how are your agents? -MH_

Q smirked down at his phone.

_Nice segue, brother. My agents are doing well, thanks for asking. -EH_

Several pings followed his response.

_I’m sure he’s talking about one in particular. -SH_

_When he means YOUR agents. -SH_

_The handsome one. -SH_

Q furled his brow, feeling warmth coloring his cheeks. He was glad no one was watching.

“Who are you talking to, Q?” A gruff voice whispered into his ear, “Should I be jealous?”

Q nearly slammed his shoulder into the owner of the voice, but the intruder had jumped away in time, icy blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“007,” It was a testament to how many times this particular double-o pulled this stunt that Q was able to immediately compose himself, “Shall I even bother looking for any of my tech?"

Q doesn’t bother turning around, preferring to type away at his phone rather than meeting the eye of MI6’s most notorious troublesome agent.

_Speak of the devil. -EH_

“I’m hurt that you didn’t bother asking about my well-being first,” Bond purred, “seeing that I brought you a present.”

_Has he brought you another present? -SH_

Q sighed, shutting off his phone, “Please don’t insult me by-“

“Ahaaa!” Someone giggled, brightly.

Q froze, eyes wide through his glasses. Wait... that sounded like-

He turned around slowly, blinking owlishly, “007, did you just-“

“Agahaha!” A tiny hand reached up from the folded blanket in Bond’s arms and grabbed softly onto one of Bond’s sleeves.

Q stared at the blanket as it continued to babble in Bond’s arms while the double-o agent cradled it carefully in his arms. In the back on his mind, Q thought he’d never seen 007 so careful with anything or anyone before.

“Why, Q,” said agent chuckled, lewdly, “what beautiful teeth you have.”

Q shut his mouth with an audible click before pinching the bridge of his brow with growing irritation, “007.”

“Yes, quartermaster.”

“Did you kidnap a baby?”

Bond rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “define kidnap.”

“Bond!” Q gritted his teeth, hands clenched into fists, the amount of paperwork he’d had to oversee- not to mention M-

“He was abandoned on the side of the street,” Bond answered primly, dumping the infant into Q’s unwilling arms, “now if you’d excuse me, I need to debrief the mission.”

“Why would you even- Bond!” Q cursed the agents name but he couldn’t chase after the agent- not with this _thing_ in his arms. He swore that he would give 007 nothing but the tiniest water gun available on the current market for this transgression.

Q frowned down at the infant in his arms. It was frowning back, tiny brows furled in concentration. A smell like no other invaded Q’s nostrils.

Fuck.

A ping on his desk alerted him to another text.

_Well, was I right? -SH_

_Mycroft, how much would it cost MI6 if I strangle a double-o agent. -EH_

_And can you tell Anthea to send baby supplies, preferably a nanny. -EH_

_Or orphanage services. -EH_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus pic. :D (because I’m bored)


	3. Chapter 3

Q-branch was a flurry of motion, wailing, and frantic shouting.

“Does anyone know how to stop this infernal crying?!” Q shouted over the wailing, holding the infant at an arms length, “Anthea?”

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with this,” the dark haired woman said nonchalantly, eyes glued to her phone.

“I know for a fact that you _do_ get paid enough to deal with this!”

“At least the kid has a healthy set of lungs,” a low gravely voice chuckled behind him.

Q’s eyes went maddeningly wide, “YOU!” He shoved the sobbing infant into Bond’s arms, _“Do something!”_

007 lowered his gaze at the child with cool eyes before placing the wailing infant on his chest and patting it several times on the back. The baby gave a large belch before quieting abruptly.

The whole of Q-branch let out a collective sigh of relief. Q stood there for a moment, shocked that one of MI6’s deadliest agents knew how to take care of a tiny, helpless infant.

“Of your entire department, not one has ever burped a baby?” the double-o agent chuckled lightly in the silence.

Q rounded on Bond, eyes wide and murderous, “007-“

But Bond was eyeing the collection of baby supplies that was strewn across the tables and floor, “you’ve been busy.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Q hissed careful not to rouse the now sleeping infant, “What the hell were you thinking? MI6 is not a daycare!”

“I wanted to see your reaction and, I have to say, it was well worth it.”

Q spluttered for a second, angry eyes wide, before hissing, “don’t you dare play games with me, Bond. Take it away-“

“How could you say such a thing to that cute face,” a new female voice cooed, “007, where did you find such a cutie.”

“On the side of the road,” Bond replied infuriatingly.

“Poor thing,” the elder woman reached out for the child, “may I?”

“R, do not encourage him!” Q seethed as Bond gracefully transferred the child into R’s arms.

“Does the babe have a name?” R asked softly rocking the child in her arms.

“Funny you should ask. There was this slip of paper folded in the blanket saying, ‘ _his name is Harry Potter,_ ’” Bond said, reaching out to touch the babe’s tiny toes.

If Q hadn’t been so furious and fascinated with Bond being so gentle with the baby, he would have noticed that Anthea had stopped typing for a second before resuming in a quicker pace.

“I don’t care if it’s the bloody son of the prime minister! Get rid of it!”

“And put him in an orphanage?” Bond flicked his icy eyes curiously towards Q, “Care to recommend any, Q?”

For a second, a thick, tense silence blanketed Q-branch.

“You had no right,” Q said, deathly quiet.

“And what about the kid?” Bond pressed, “want him to go through what you went through?”

“Those bastards all rot in hell after I was done,” Q hissed.

“Language, brother. There are children present.”

All eyes went to stare at the middle aged man in the room as he strolled towards R, careful to avoid 007. The stranger’s brows furling as he parted the sleeping child’s hair, “Yes, Anthea, I can see what you were saying.”

“Mycroft?” Q narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “what are you doing here?”

Mycroft coolly took out a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his fingers, as if he touched something disgusting, “I had some business with M, but, as I told you, she was occupied by some international crisis,” he flashed a brief glance towards Bond, “but, may I ask, where this baby was found?”

Though his face was a mask of amusement, Q could see that his eyes were cold and dark as an abyss, “I don’t believe that is pertinent  information.”

“Ah, right,” Mycroft coughed, somewhat flustered, turning his attention back to Q, “rest assured, my associates and I will take this child off your hands.”

He nodded to Anthea who sighed, miraculously putting her phone away and stepping forward. Once Anthea picked up the child, he began to cry loud and sharp. Everyone in the room winced.

“Mycroft!” Q hurried to his brother, suddenly frantic, “Where are you going to take him?”

Mycroft lifted a brow, “why would you care?”

“Just tell me, dammit!” Q snapped.

“Nothing to worry about. We will take good care of him.” Mycroft drawled turning away from Q as the infant began to bellow it’s tiny lungs out. He stared at Q, bright green eyes wide and accusing.

_“Don’t worry,” dark eyes glared down at him, lips pulled into a sly grin, “We will take good care of him.”_

_“As long as that thing’s out of this house, I could care less what happens to it.“_

“W-wait!“ Q grabbed the infant from Anthea’s willing arms and held it protectively to his chest, “I’ll take him!”

Mycroft looked between Q and the infant, who went surprisingly quiet, then back to Q, “are you serious, brother?”

Q looked strangely vulnerable for a second, lips parted, eyes blinking rapidly, staring unfocused behind the thick-rimmed glasses, “y-yes.”

Mycroft took a step towards his brother, “I’m not sure you understand the responsibility you are-“

A strong hand shot out and grabbed Mycroft’s bicep, a dark dangerous voice joining it, “I believe the quartermaster wants to keep the baby.”

Mycroft visibly swallowed, “alright, I’ll have Anthea here send you the necessities.”

“I think we can manage,” Bond growled.

Mycroft flinched, the muttering under his breathe sounded eerily like ‘mommy’s gonna be hearing about this,’ before nodding at Anthea and retreating. The dark haired woman gratefully retrieved her phone from her pocket as she followed.

There was a tense silence as the duo left which Bond promptly broke, “I didn’t know you had a brother-“

Q was extremely surprised the agent did not dodge Q’s punch to the jaw, so much so that Q had to catch himself before he apologized, “this- this is your fucking fault!”

Bond actually chuckled as if he was delighted, “Language, Q.”

“Shut the fuck up!”


	4. Chapter 4

Q hadn’t slept in nearly a week.

This would be a completely normal circumstance had there not been a wailing infant involved.

After the confrontation with his brother, Q had converted his office into a makeshift baby room, crib and all. He spent his little free time looking up videos on baby care. He tried to make it work but, like a house of cards, he found his carefully built facade crumbling before the week was over.

“I give up,” Q confided in R one evening in his office, nursing a scotch in shaking hands, “Mycroft can take him.”

“You are the youngest quartermaster in MI6 history,” R soothed, rocking a sleeping Harry in her elderly arms, “if you could handle a department full of technicians, you surely can handle a child.”

“I can’t...” he sighed, putting his cup to wipe his face with his hands, “with the double-o’s and the whole department... adding the baby... it’s too much.”

“Have you talked to James about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Q laughed ruefully, balancing himself precariously on his desk, “Bond cares about nothing but getting his way.”

R frowned, “Q, you know he cares a great deal about you-“

“If he did, he wouldn’t have dumped a human child on me!” Q muttered angrily into his scotch.

“It’s so completely unlike you to choose to adopt little Harry,” R flickered intelligent eyes at him.

“I didn’t-“ Q sighed again, “it was impulsive. A knee-jerk reaction- the boy-“

“You don’t do knee-jerk reactions, Q,” R pressed, “You haven’t even refered to Harry by his name, why is that?”

Q went quiet.

R’s eyes grew wide in understanding, “Oh, Q-“

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it,” Q chuckled self-deprecatingly, “Youngest quartermaster of MI6 history, accomplished hacker, brought the whole of Q-branch into the 21st century, and I’m scared of getting attached to a baby.”

“Q-“

“What was I even thinking? Agreeing to adopt a baby? I don’t even know his background? I haven’t even asked Bond where he got the baby! I-“

“You’re being too hard on yourself. No first parent is completely prepared-“

“I never wanted children,” Q confessed bluntly. He must be really drunk. He never said these things sober.

“Q-“

“Ever wonder how I ended up in an orphanage?” Q laughed darkly, “my parents never died in some tragic accident. They just... gave me away.”

R stilled, shock coloring her features.

“I was too young to know why my parents didn’t want me,” Q drained his cup, “I tried looking them up you know. When I got out of that hell-“ he poured himself another cup, “it’s like they don’t even exist. I tried everything, MI6 included, but I could never find anything under the Black name. Sometimes I think those memories from that time must have been a dream. I had brothers...I think...”

Memories of brief smiles, encouraging words, a small hand on his shoulder- Q shook his head, slowly, room spinning.

“If my parents weren’t so...” His expression turned dark, eyes downcast, before chuckling humorlessly into his cup, “they wanted me to die there. In the orphanage.”

A large gentle hand took the glass out of his hand, “I think you’ve had quite enough, Q.”

“Bond,” Q slurred, “how long were you there.”

Thin lips smirked with mirth, “I don’t think you want me to seriously answer that question.”

“Serious...” Q muttered, “sounds familiar...” his eyes fluttering closed, “Serious black...”

Recognition flashed in those cool blues as they regarded Q curiously, “Q?”

But MI6’s quartermaster was out like a light, soft curls leaning against 007’s broad shoulders. James placed the glass down on the desk, wrapping his strong arms around his quartermaster’s still form to carefully carry him off the desk.

“James.”

The double-o turned to face R. The quartermaster’s second in command looked stern, almost deadly, though she carried a sleeping babe in her arms, “Don’t hurt him.”

“Don’t worry, R,” James smirked conspiratorially, “our quartermaster is stronger than you think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another pic cuz of boredom


	5. Chapter 5

Q slowly blinked awake on unfamiliar soft sheets. There was something wriggling against him, giggling.

“You’re quite the heavy sleeper.”

Instantly, Q snapped his eyes open to meet the wide toothed grin of MI6’s most notorious agent. Luckily, the wiggling and giggling came from the baby that stuck itself to his side, not the agent.

“Bond?” Q slurred, shielding his eyes from the little light in the room that amplified his headache, “what are you doing in my apartment?”

“I should be asking you,” Bond stood up from his chair, walking towards the bedroom door, “I’ll be in the kitchen making breakfast. Aspirin and water is on the bedside table. Care to join me whenever you wish, quartermaster.”

Q looked around and sure enough, he was in an unfamiliar space. The furniture was sleek, modern, and immaculate. Dark expensive suits hung in the sliding closet. Q turned, seeing his clothes from the day before was neatly folded to the side. Q flushed, feeling the soft silky fabric pressing against his skin. Did Bond undress him? And, on that note, was this 007’s actual apartment? Sure didn’t look like any of the safe houses Q furnished for Bond.

He sat up, hissing as his headache flared, and made a grab for the pills. How much had he drunk last night?

He managed to stuff a couple pills into his mouth when a high-pitched wail nearly blinded Q as he flailed down the side of the bed, hitting the laminated floor in an undignified heap.

Bond must have rushed in, because the godawful wailed stopped, replaced but blessed low rumbling and soothing whispers that helped Q reorientate himself. He groaned, hand feeling around for his glasses. Alcohol. Never again.

“I never knew you to be so clumsy, Q,” a low voice chucked in the corner of the room.

Q turned to glare at the dark blob, “Well you learn something new every fucking day, now help me!”

“Such a filthy mouth, quartermaster,” Bond whispered silkily in his ear. Q shivered as he felt a strong arm pull him gently to his feet.

“My glasses-“ He began when he felt the frames threading through his hair over his eyes, revealing twin glowing blue eyes and a handsome smirk of the agent in front of him.

“Thanks,” Q huffed, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck by ducking past the double-o, swearing under his breathe to never indulge in a blasted drink ever again. He jumped when strong arms wrapped themselves around his small waist, a gruff voice breathing in his ear, “I think, you are forgetting something.”

And just like that, the arms parted, leaving Q with the giggling baby in his grasp.

“Bond,” Q seethed though the dizzying haze. There was no hiding the flush on the younger man’s pale face, but, luckily, the agent was ignoring him, favoring his attention to the sizzling pan.

“Bacon, blood sausage, or both?” The agent said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t been breathing down Q’s neck a minute ago.

“Both and have you prepared the baby’s formula?”

“Left cupboard, in the microwave.”

Q tried not to think of how alarmingly domestic this all was as he shuffled through the cabinets. After obtaining the heated formula, he headed towards the couch, only to find a rumpled blanket set over the cushions. In the immaculate house, the crumpled blanket looked out of place.

Realization hit Q as he turned to the busy agent, “Bond... you didn’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Bond faced Q with a sly look that meant trouble, “is that an invitation?”

“What? Uh-“ Q flushed red, realizing the implications, “no- I- well-“

“No need to get so flustered, quartermaster,” the double-o chuckled, turning back to plate the food, “it was no trouble. I’ve slept in harsher conditions.”

Q frowned, but did not argue, preferring to sit down on the rumpled couch as he fed the baby. Once the babe had his fill, Q expertly patted Harry on the back, allowing the baby to give a solid burp.

“You’re getting better at that,” 007 observed, setting a plate of food in front of him before taking the baby from Q’s grasp, “eat, you’re all skin and bone.”

Q followed the agent’s command, stuffing his mouth at first to hide the flush at the thought of the double-o undressing him last night, then continuing to do so because the food honestly tasted amazing.

He finished just as Bond made his way back into the room, “that was really good.”

“High praise from the quartermaster,” Bond replied chivalrously.

Q narrowed his eyes through his napkin, “what do you want, 007?”

Cool blue eyes stared into Q’s, “what do you mean?”

“You don’t...” Q swallowed before trying again, “you don’t do all of this without expecting something in return so... what do you want?”

The agent smiled lewdly, giving Q a once over through lowered lashes, “are you offering anything, quartermaster?”

“Cut the bullshit, Bond,” Q seethed, “what do you want?”

Bond dropped his flirty facade, showing the cold hard killer underneath, “why don’t we play a game?”

“What kind of game?” Q asked, tight lipped. He didn’t like to play games with double-o agents, least of all 007. They never played fair.

“Oh, nothing too challenging, just trading information,” Bond sat back lazily on his side of the sofa, “You want to know more about little Harry Potter, don’t you, quartermaster?”

“Alright,” Q answered, hesitantly, “what are the rules?”

“We each get to ask the other a question. The askee has to answer truthfully before asking a question in return.”

“And if we catch the other in a lie?” Q asked.

Bond gave Q a lewd grin, “You have to strip an article of clothing.”

Q’s eyes went wide, “ _fuck you, Bond!_ ”

“I was kidding,” 007 chuckled, eyes bright, “you are no fun, Q. Besides, I will be able to tell if you lie.”

“But I can’t tell if you do,” Q sighed.

“That’s the fun of this game.”

“Alright,” Q waved his hand at the agent, “ask away.”

Shrewd blue eyes regarded him for a long second, “how are you related to Mycroft Holmes?”

Q sighed, relieved, “he’s my foster brother. The Holmes adopted me when I was 9,” Q took a long swig of the juice, “where did you find... Harry?”

“A wasted question, Q,” Bond smiled, polite as can be, “l’ve told you, side of the street in a quiet neighborhood-“

“Address,” Q pressed.

“Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey,” Bond’s smile was all teeth, “satisfied, quartermaster?”

Q nodded, frowning.

“What was your orphanage?” Bond asked.

Q had to clasp his hands to stop them from shaking, “next question.”

“That’s not how this game works, Q.”

“Next question-“

“Q,” Bond’s eyes were cold and dark as an abyss, “answer the question.”

Q bit his lip, looking pointedly away from the double-o agent, “St. Bernard’s orphanage.”

Bond looked thoughtful for a second, “How long were you there-“

“I believe it’s my turn to ask the questions, 007,” Q snapped, “did you see who left the baby on the street?”

“Yes, now how long were you there?”

“3 years,” Q answered, voice small.

A terse silence followed as Q began to blink rapidly, grateful that Bond gave him this brief respite.

“Who did you see there?” Q asked softly.

“An old man named Dumbledore, a giant man named Hagrid, and an old crone named McGonagall,” Bond continued with a straight face, “who is-“

“Hold on!” Q hissed, sitting up on the couch, “those aren’t even names! Who did you actually see?”

Bond flashed his glacial gaze at Q, “I’m speaking the truth. Do you think me a fool who would conjure up such ridiculous names? Now, who is Sirius Black?”

Q paused, blinking, “who?”

“You whispered that name before you passed out last night,” Bond purred, “who is Sirius Black?”

Q opened his mouth to say something when a sharp intense pain shot through his brain causing him cry out in surprise.

In an instant, 007 was at his side, large hands feeling for any physical abnormalities, “Q!”

“Wha?” Q asked, eyes drooping as some spittle leaked from his lips, mind pleasantly blank.

The large hands held his head in place, cool eyes showing mixture of concern and disquiet, “what happened, Q?”

“I... I don’t know...” Q blinked rapidly, bringing his hand to his head, only to rest his smaller hand on a larger one.

Bond frowned, before saying, “do you know anything about Sirius Black?”

“What? What are you saying? How is the color black a serious concern right now?” Q asked, feeling horribly confused.

Bond’s frown deepened as he gently laid his quartermaster on couch and under the cover of the rumpled blankets, “nevermind now, Q. Take a rest.”

Q grabbed the agent’s arm before 007 could leave, slurring, “Wait. Where are you going?”

Bond easily loosened the grip, placing it back under the covers, “I’m going to get some answers.”

”Alright,” Q said, feeling soft lips on his brow as his eyes fluttered closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on a roll! Lucky for you guys! ;D


	6. Chapter 6

“And I want the report on my desk by noon tomorrow,” Mycroft said primly before hanging up.

A ping went off on his phone, alerting him to a text. Mycroft quickly picked up his phone.

_Have you heard from our brother? -SH_

Mycroft sighed, before typing.

_No, I have not heard from him. -MH_

_What did you do? -SH_

Mycroft furled his brows.

_How is this remotely my fault? -MH_

The response was quick.

_After you visited MI6, Elias stopped texting. It’s the only logical conclusion. -SH_

Mycroft sighed before bringing his fingers to his phone when a folder covered his vision.

“Now, Anthea, I said-“ he began before trailing off as he read the label.

“This is all I got on the fire of St. Bernard Orphanage. The only survivor being a 9 year old boy named Elias who was immediately adopted by Gregory C. Holmes and his wife, Lydia Mycroft Holmes,” a cold voice said from behind the file.

Mycroft grabbed the offending document, scanning its contents, “what- where did you get this-“ before freezing as he glanced at the man behind the voice.

“I make it my business to know the people my quartermaster associates with,” James Bond said cordially, hands folded before him.

Mycroft quickly composed himself, “I’m not going to ask you how you got into this office, 007, was it?”

“You can call me James,” Bond said in a tone that told Mycroft he shouldn’t call the agent James.

“Agent Bond,” Mycroft sniffed, “what do you want?”

Mycroft visibly startled when Bond gave a genuine laugh, “what is with it with you Holmes bothers asking what I want? Why couldn’t I just visit my quartermaster’s older brother in his heavily fortified office?”

“Being that we never once crossed paths until recently, I would say that this meeting is rather... unexpected,” Mycroft closed the file primly, setting it to one side, “I hope you didn’t give security a scare.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t worry about the help...” 007 laid his glacier gaze on Mycroft, “tell me about Q.”

“ _Elias_ ,” Mycroft emphasized, “has always been a quiet, well behaved child-“

Bond snorted at that, but Mycroft ignored him.

“He is the baby of the family. Mummy adores him to bits. Though he doesn’t call or visit home often. The only way to get ahold of him now is through text. Dreadful as it is. Though he hasn’t texted us recently. Mummy is getting worried,” Mycroft raised a brow at the double-o agent, “How is Elias, by the way?”

“He’s fine,” Bond waved the question off, “what do you know about the Black family?”

Mycroft carefully left his face blank, “what are you talking about? I dare say, that is racist to presume-“

Bond smiled darkly like a cat that got the cream, “you know something.”

Mycroft tensed, “I don’t know what you-“

With lightning-quick reflexes, Bond grabbed Mycroft from across the desk, “I know 452 different ways to ‘interrogate’ a witness. Care to try a few?”

“007 cease and desist, this is beyond your jurisdiction.”

Both men turned to see M striding in with a tight lipped frown.

Mycroft sagged slightly with relief, “Ah, so good of you to join us, M.”

“Yes, so good of you to join us,” Bond’s smile was sharp enough to kill, “care to watch me interrogate this man here.”

“ _You will do no such thing_ ,” a voice hissed behind M, shaking with barely concealed rage. Q stepped forward, hands clenched into fists, “M, I request some time to talk to 007 and my brother, in private.”

“As you wish, quartermaster,” M nodded at Q before glaring at Bond, “you are hereby restricted to diplomatic only missions for the next two years.”

Mycroft smiled internally as the agent grimaced at the declaration from his superior.

As the door closed behind M, Q turned to Mycroft, coolly ignoring Bond completely, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, brother. Bond is particularly... nosy when it comes to me-“

“Where is Harry?” Bond asked carefully.

“Why do you care?” Q snapped.

Bond smirked, “He’s our child, of course I care.”

“You-“

Bond reached forward and held Q’s face in both his hands before the younger man could jerk away, “Bond! What are you-“

“Sirius Black, who is he?” The double-o agent asked point blank.

Q could distantly hear someone shouting while a thudding blankness filled his head. Then he blinked, his mind was pleasantly fuzzy, “what did you say?”

“I see why you might be concerned. I will have to look into this,” Q heard Mycroft say.

Q turned to Bond, confused, “what? What’s going on?”

“Do you know where you are, Q?” The agent asked.

“Mycroft’s office... why?”

“Where’s Harry?”

“R is looking after him him. He’s safe,” Q shook his head slowly, blinking.

Mycroft glared at Bond, “In the meantime, don’t mention that name again. We don’t know the effects it could be having.”

Bond nodded as Q looked between them, “what are you talking about?”

“Let’s go, Q,” Bond said, the hand on Q’s back was oddly gentle, “those diplomatic missions are not going to solve themselves.”


	7. Chapter 7

Q went back to MI6 the next day, unable to justify taking anymore days off, even though R insisted she could take care of the department for a couple more days.

“It’s not like I’ll give Harry away after a couple of days,” the younger man said, balancing the giggling baby in one arm as he walked past the clearances, “I can’t let you deal with Q-branch and the double-o’s on your own, R.”

“So you decided to keep Harry?” R asked innocently, pointedly looking down at the documents she acquired for the quartermaster.

“I thought that was obvious,” Q said, holding out his free hand, “is that about the new prototype r and d is tinkering?”

R handed him the papers, a genuine smile pulling at her lips, “glad to have you back, quartermaster.”

Q brought the papers and the giggling Harry to his office, placing Harry gently in his crib and the papers on the desk. He flipped through the pages as Harry bounced happily in his crib. He looked at the babe. Just a week ago, he would have never imagined having to care for a helpless infant while juggling with the mountain of work that was Q-branch. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to survive the week without Bond popping in every so often to look after Harry.

Q narrowed his eyes at his papers. That was another thing. Bond was unusually careful with the child, caring for it as if it was his own. Q never seen that side of the man, the nurturing, doting, fatherly side.

His phone pinged on his desk. He looked at the screen. 52 unread text messages. His brothers had been busy. He typed a quick message.

_I’m fine. Busy. -EH_

The response was immediate.

_Where were you? -SH_

_You haven’t been answering my texts all week. -SH_

_Mummy is worried. -SH_

Q winced. He never liked to worry his foster mother. He was going to have to give her a call.

He dialed the number, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Holmes residence,” a cheerful voice of the maid said on the other line.

“Put Mummy on the line,” Q said, pressing a button under the desk to close and lock the door, “tell her it’s Elias.”

“Alright. Just be a moment, master Elias,” there was a pause, when another regal voice came on the line, “Elias. What’s this I heard from Sherlock about you being involved with one of your double-o’s?”

“Mummy,” Q said in exasperation, “you know better then to listen to speculation.”

“When that speculation is coming from your brother, I’d do well to listen,” the elder Holmes said knowingly.

“There’s nothing going on between me and 007.”

“Oh, the handsome one?”

“You’ve been talking to Sherlock for too long,” Q sighed, pressing speaker phone as he leaned back in his chair.

“Only because you never call, darling,” Lydia Holmes continued, “you should come visit Papa and I, bring your agent with you.”

“He is not my agent-“ Q began when a silky deep voice laughed softly at his ear, “Elias’ agent would be pleased to meet you and your husband. How’s tea time two months from now?”

Before Q could splutter a response, Lydia Holmes replied, “perfect! You will be in time for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. Sherlock and John will be there as well. No need to dress well, this will be a private occasion.”

“We’ll see you there,” Bond purred, wrapping a large hand over Q’s mouth to stop him from protesting before ending the call.

When 007 retracted his hand, Q’s lips was pulled down into a frown, “now you’ve done it. If we don’t go, she’s gonna pull up a fuss.”

“Who’s saying we won’t go?” 007 strolled casually over to the waiting Harry who had his tiny arms outreached to grab at the agent’s lapels.

Q sighed, “what are you even doing here, Bond?”

“Mission from on high,” Bond replied, picking up Harry and giving him a small kiss to the forehead, “wanted to say goodbye to our son before I go.”

“He’s not our-“ Q stopped, knowing when to choose his battles, “what mission?”

The agent gave Q a sidelong glance, “care for my welfare, quartermaster? You should give me better tech.”

“To have you destroy or lose them before you even leave MI6? No, thank you,” Q huffed, “you’d be lucky to get a water gun from me after the stunt you pulled last time.”

007 chuckled at the running joke between them, stepping into Q’s person space, purring, “well, then I’ll have to try harder to seduce you, Elias.”

The moment was broken by the sudden strong odor wafting through the air.

“Alright, I have to go,” Bond pressed his lips to Q’s unruly curls, dropping Harry carefully on Q’s lap, “I’ll listen for you, Q.”

“Bond!” Q yelled, holding the upset baby in his arms, but it was too late. 007 had already left the room.

Q looked down miserably at Harry, flushing hotly, “Harry, what is he doing to me...”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Q branch was operating smoothly; that is to say, it was a chaotic mess of technicians hurrying to comply to Q or R’s demands.

The only difference was the occasional wailing interrupting the clicking of keyboards or the sounds of running motors. Q was pleased to see how quick his minions- and they were his minions, even his minions considered themselves minions- would react to a given situation.

That was until everything the could go wrong, all went wrong simultaneously.

First, 004 got critically wounded in a highly restricted compound, still holding onto time sensitive information about a known terrorist group in the Middle East. Then the relatively uneventful mission where 007 was to act as a bodyguard during the peace talks between the British ambassador and an US representative was ambushed by violent terrorists posing as rioters.

The final cherry on the chaos sundae was the fact that Harry stopped wailing bloody murder every thirty minutes.

At first, Q thanked all the gods that Harry decided to be blessedly quiet on the unholiest of days, but as time grew on without a peep from his newly adopted baby, Q realized something must be wrong.

When he found the crib empty, he tried to temper his growing panic. Q immediately shut off his speaker so 007 wouldn’t be distracted by this new development.

“R,” he caught his second in command on her way back from a meeting with Tanner, “have you seen Harry?”

R frowned, brows furled, “Isn’t he in his crib?”

“He’s not there-“

 _“Q, I’m gonna need an escape route,”_ Bond whispered into his ear, _“they have the entire building under lockdown. They haven’t found us, but I need a direct route to get the ambassadors to safety.”_

Q raised shaking fingers to activate his headset, “working on it, 007. Give me a few minutes-“

 _“I don’t have a few minutes, Q,”_ Bond snapped, _“we’re trapped in a broom closet with the US ambassador. If I don’t get them out before they find us-“_

A loud voice through Bond’s coms yelled, _“if the British and United States ambassadors do not show themselves in 10 seconds, we will start killing hostages every 10 seconds until they come out.”_

 _“Sit down, mister ambassador!”_ Bond hissed, _“Q!”_

“I’m on it,” Q sighed, rushing back to his computer as 004 hissed in the other line, _“I... need a direct route to the drop off point... no tangos... or I might bleed out right here and now.”_

 _“10,”_ the terrorist on Bond’s coms began counting down.

“Hold on a little while longer, 004,” Q stressed, “I’m locking on to your coordinates right now-“

 _“Q-“_ Bond began.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, 007-“

_“9.”_

A technician interrupted him before he could finish, “sir.”

“What?” Q snapped.

_“8.”_

“We have a problem,” the young technician’s eyes were wide, “we found the baby, but-“

Q tapped off the coms, “where?”

_“7.”_

“In r and d, I don’t know how he got there. It’s not looking good-“

“R-“

“On it,” R stood and followed the trembling technician out of the room.

 _“Q, I’m giving the coms to the British ambassador,”_ Bond whispered.

_“6.”_

“You will do no such thing!” Q shouted when he realized he had tapped off his speaker. He opened the signal, “007! Don’t do anything stupid!”

 _“Hello? This is ambassador Tom Harrington,”_ a voice said with a particularly posh accent, _“the agent told me to put this in my ear. He also gave me a gun. I’ve never used a gun before-“_

_“5- who are you?”_

_“British Ambassador Tom Harrington, here. It’s just me, I’m afraid. The US ambassador has already left the building,”_ Q heard Bond say politely through the coms, _“but I dare say, I’m ambassador enough for the both of us.”_

“The bloody idiot!” Q cursed, “alright. Stay with me, Mr. Harrington, I’ll get you and the US representative out-“

 _“Q, I’m literally dying here,”_ 004 groaned.

“004, head for the corridor on your left- no! You’re other left!” Q shouted.

 _“I’m sorry?”_ Harrington asked, confused.

“I’m not talking to you, Harrington,” Q continued, “004, you see the red door? I’m hacking the code right now. Past that is the stairs to the roof, can you jump to the next building over in your current condition? Good, you should see a set of stairs leading down the roof when you get there. You should be good to go from there-“

 _“Got it, Q,”_ 004 answered before taking the route.

 _“Who are you talking to?”_ Harrington asked.

“Harrington, are you with the US ambassador right now?” Q deflected.

 _“Yes-“_ Harrington said hesitantly.

“Ok, listen to me carefully-“

“ _The roof’s door is locked with another keypad, Q. Hurry up and unlock it!”_ 004 coughed.

“Q-“ R said from behind him.

“I’m working on it!” Q yelled.

“ _Sir, I will not have you yelling at me in such a manner, especially in such a delicate situation,”_ Harrington said, affronted.

“Not talking to you, Harrington,” Q snapped.

“Q!” R said.

“ _Hurry up and unlock it, you glorified gps!”_ 004 snarled.

“Glorified gps? Is that what you think of me? I’ll show you gloried gps-“ his fingers flew through the keys on the keyboard.

“Q!” R’s hand shot out to still his, “you need to see this!”

“Can this wait?!” Q snapped at his second in command.

The older woman pursed her lips, “No, it’s Harry.”

“ _It’s open. Heading out,”_ 004 said through the coms.

“Alright, Harrington, are you there?” Q said as he followed R out of his office.

“ _Yes, I-“_ Harrington began.

“Good, I want you to treat me-“ Q paused, thin lipped, “treat me like a glorified gps. Also, describe what you are seeing-“

“ _I’m in a broom cupboard-“_

“Not that! What is the situation-“ _How is Bond?_ Q wanted to say before remembering, belatedly, that he wasn’t dealing with capable double-o’s. Besides, Bond could take care of himself, “ok, change of plan. Go out of the closet and head left-“

He continued to instruct the bumbling ambassadors on a safe exit as he followed R down the corridor and into the technology research and development department, “alright, after this door, you should be home, scott free. I’ve arranged several cars to pick you two up.“

“ _Thank you so much,”_ Harrington and the other ambassador said, breathing heavy, “ _I never asked for a name-“_

“And you should hope that you never hear from me again,” Q shut off Bond’s coms, pressing a button that would make that particular device worthless and non functioning before switching to the spare he had implanted on Bond’s person before he had left MI6.

“Bond, pick up, pick up!” Q muttered darkly just as he came face to face with a sight from his darkest nightmares.

In the center of the room was Harry, on a lab table, playing with several harmless ballpoint pens. Except, Q knew those pens were far from harmless. Each had their own deadly configurations implanted in their cores. One wrong move on one particular pen could destroy the whole of MI6’s r and d department in one spectacular explosion.

A crowd of terrified technicians had swarmed around him, looking completely unsure how to react. They all visibly relaxed at Q’s presence.

“Quartermaster, we don’t know what happened. He just... suddenly appeared, holding the prototypes. I-it was like magic-“ a technician stammered.

“Skip the speculation,” Q snapped, watching in abject horror as Harry put one of pens in his mouth and bit down. Everyone in the room winced, waiting for a negative reaction- or their immediate demise- which, thankfully, did not happen.

“The baby would not let anyone near him, sir,” another technician piped up, “he would point a pen at anyone who approached-“

“He wouldn’t even let me near him,” R confessed.

“Alright,” Q sighed, slowly walking towards the giggling baby on the lone counter, “hey, Harry, dear, why don’t you put all those down.”

“Da!” Harry giggled, chewing on the pen delightfully.

“No, Harry, please take the pen out of your mouth,” Q said calmly, inching closer.

“Da!” Harry said again, pointing a pen at Q.

Q halted fractionally, “please point that pen away from me, Harry.”

“Ma!” Harry giggled, “da! Ma!”

“Harry-” Q began when an idea hit him, “you want me to play with you?”

“ _Q,”_ a soft voice purred in his ear.

“Alright,” Q said, ignoring Bond as he walked towards the baby, “give me that toy-“

“Ah!” A green beam shot out of the pen, singeing Q in the shoulder as he dove out of the way.

“Fuck,” Q hissed, grabbing his injury as a wail began to grow in intensity.

“ _What is happening?”_ Bond demanded, “ _Q!”_

“Nothing,” Q gasped, shutting off the speaker before being greeted with another terrifying sight.

All the small equipment in the room- pens, pencils, notepads, the like- flew several feet into the air. Harry was the epicenter, destructive pens forgotten, wailing his little heart out.

“Harry!” Q rushed to the boy, wrapping his good arm around Harry, “it’s ok, I’m not hurt, I’m fine!”

As the wailing shrunk to little sniffles, whatever held the objects in the air snapped, allowing gravity to take them once again. They were lucky that the fall didn’t set off any of the equipment.

“ _Q!”_ Bond whispered in his ear.

“I’m fine,” Q said as he switched open the coms, “what is your position?”

“ _Compromised. Woke up in some kind of room. No lights, no windows. Can you get a read on my position?”_

“Hold on,” Q said before turning to R, “can you take Harry?”

“Of course, quartermaster,” R made to pick Harry up, but the baby wasn’t having it.

“K-ku!” Harry hiccuped, tiny fists clinging onto Q’s jacket for dear life.

“Ok, ok, you’re staying with me,” Q sighed, “R, can you get a lock on 004? I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“Got it,” R affirmed, “but, Q, your arm-“

“I’ll drop by medical after we get this done,” Q dismissed, heading back to his office with Harry in his arms.

“ _Q, are you hurt?”_ Bond was deathly serious for a second.

“I’m fine, just a singe, most of the laser didn’t hit me,” Q answered.

“ _Laser?! Harry-“_

“Is fine. He was the one operating it.”

Bond chuckled lightheartedly, “ _clever. Like you.”_

“Priorities, Bond,” Q rolled his eyes, “let me get a read-“

“ _Q...”_ 004 was breathing heavily on the other end, “ _I’ve been com-”_

“004?” Q furled his brow, “What is-“

“ _Hello, there. Is this MI6’s quartermaster? I heard many things about you,”_ a falsely jovial voice said through 004’s coms, “ _Don’t worry, your little agent didn’t say a word. And after this, she’ll never say anything ever again!”_

Q flinched as a gun shot reverberated through the coms.

“ _Now,”_ the malicious voice purred, “ _Why don’t we have a little chat?”_

“MI6 does not negotiate with terrorists,” Q said coolly.

“ _You will, you will,”_ the voice giggled in a sing-song tone, “ _after all, I have your prized agent in my grasp. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to the infamous James Bond, now would you?”_

Dawning realization hit Q like a ton of bricks, “the ambassadors weren’t your target.”

 _“Ding, ding, ding! Give this man a cookie!”_ The voice laughed low and deep.

“ _Q?”_ Bond whispered in his ear.

“What do you want with Bond?” Q asked confused, “you had another agent of ours, an agent you just shot for no good reason-“

“ _Now, you are missing the point, quartermaster. She took something from me and that is unforgivable. Besides, we don’t need someone so... unimportant...”_ the other voice on the end paused for dramatic effect, “ _we want something you have._ ”

“What do you want?” Q asked.

 _“I found a door,”_ Bond said through his coms, “ _I’m heading out.”_

“ _Bond is talking with you right now, isn’t he,”_ the voice cooed in his ear, “ _do you know why I’m allowing this?”_

Q’s eyes widened, “Bond! Stay where you are-“

A loud explosion screamed through his headset, forcing Q to rip the device off his head. Harry began wailing at Q’s forced action.

“ _That’s just the thing we need,”_ the voice laughed cold as ice through the headset, “ _leave the baby where Bond took him tomorrow at midnight. If you don’t come alone or decide not to come at all, you will never see your beloved agent ever again. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t test me. Hope to see you soon, quartermaster!”_

Q bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as the coms went down, trying to calm Harry’s sobbing wail.


	9. Chapter 9

Q used every one of his hacking techniques at his disposal but he could not trace the whereabouts of the owner of the malicious voice. This could mean one of two things, the mystery man cut the signal by destroying the earpiece or he was a accomplished hacker, one on par with Q.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to calm the wailing infant at his side. He was absolutely drained and the wound on his shoulder was not helping. He really should head to medical, but this was much more pressing.

He reviewed the conversation he had with mystery man. There was a leak; no doubt about it. How else would mystery man know about Harry, hell, top secret double-o missions weren’t advertised to the public. Bond was only recently demoted to diplomatic missions as well, a fact that only MI6 was aware of.

Which meant there was a leak in MI6.

It couldn’t be Q branch. Q held a tight leash on his minions. He had handpicked each and every personel in Q branch, checked and double-checked backgrounds, put each of his personal minions though an simulation that was attuned to each minions’ personal history to find out if they would betray Q or MI6. Their loyalty to Q was on par with the double-o’s loyalty to... well, bad example. But they were exceptionally loyal to Q.

Which left the other departments. And the many, many incompetent directors who ran them.

Q rubbed his eyes. God, he desperately needed a stiff drink.

Q tried not to think about Bond as he held the sniffling Harry in his arms.

That was another thing. Harry had somehow gotten out of his crib and into r and d, all under the careful watch of Q. He thought back to who came into the office during the chaos of 004 and 007’s mission, but he came up with nothing. R was the only one who came in and out of his office during that time and there was no way the elderly woman could have been involved. She had served MI6 faithfully longer than Q was alive.

Q sighed, rubbing his face. This was getting no where and he was growing irreparably tired. He really needed to head to medical about his shoulder. He stood, pulling his laptop bag over his good shoulder while keeping a firm, paranoid hold on baby Harry as he headed out the office.

Doctors and nurses began to swarm around him as he stepped into medical. His rare appearance in the medical department warranted such behavior, but it drained him all the same.

“My shoulder,” he said wearily, waiting for the drugs they were pumping into him to take effect. As he sat down in one of the cots, Harry babbling on his good shoulder, he nearly missed the faint voice in his ear, “ _Q...”_

Q made sure it was a secure line that went directly to his personal coms before he whispered, “Bond! Are you injured?”

“ _Peachy,”_ came the sarcastic response and Q sagged his shoulders in relief, wincing as he moved his injury, _“I knew something was fishy about that door. It was too all too convenient.”_

“Good, good,” Q sighed, “let me get a lock on your location.”

He stopped a medical staff on her way out, “would you kindly notify R that I’m here. Also, make sure this is under wraps. That is an order.”

“ _Is there something wrong? You sound a little short of breathe,”_ 007 asked.

“Nothing to worry about, Bond,” Q flipped open his laptop, typing quickly to get a lock on Bond, “ok... got it! Ok- oh shit-“

“ _What?”_

“Multiple targets, heading your way. Do you have a gun?”

 _“I have a pen I lifted from your desk the last time I saw you,_ ” Bond didn’t even sound remotely sorry.

Q made a face, “what does it look like?”

“ _lovely green color. Could match your eyes. Wanted a reminder of you when I went on this mission.”_

“My eyes are gray,” Q deadpanned.

 _“Yes, but it has lovely green speckled all throughout the iris. You have gorgeous eyes, Q,_ ” Bond purred.

Q flushed, angry that the blasted man could still get to him through disembodied voice alone, “anyway, it’s lucky you took that pen rather then the red one. The red one was only a pen.”

“ _And this one?”_

“A... laser pistol... twist left to trigger.”

“ _And if I twist to the right?”_

“Ordinary functional pen.”

“ _Clever.”_

Q flushed deeper at the compliment, clearing his throat, “multiple targets, Bond.”

“ _Leave it to me. Say hi to Harry for me.”_

“Da!” Harry cried out for the first time in a while.

“Shhh, Harry,” Q hushed, feeling more and more exhausted at the second. He didn’t want to succumb to his medication, not when Bond was still in a highly volatile and dangerous situation.

“Sir, I have to ask you to lie down-“ a med staffer began, pulling Q’s computer away from him.

“Name and designation?” Q snapped.

“Jody Williams, nurse,” Williams blinked, “why?”

“I want to know who to reprimand for interrupting critical MI6 operations. Now, Jody, would you kindly return my laptop,” Q held out his hand, palm up.

The nurse looked particularly flustered, “Sir-“

“I’m terribly sorry, quartermaster,” a dark-haired doctor said smoothly as he handed Q back his laptop, “Jody here is new to our staff.”

Q narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on Harry. There was something uncomfortably familiar about this doctor, “thank you, Dr...?”

“Hector, John Hector, but you can call me Jim,” the man said, smiling with all teeth.

“Pleasure,” Q answered as he typed away at his laptop, noting with a sidelong glance that they were the only people in the room, “can you please give me an employee manifest from the past-“

“What a beautiful baby you have!” Jim purred, “may I have a closer look?”

“You may not,” Q frowned, “it says here on the manifest that John Hector was found dead in his apartment this morning. Who are you?”

As the man made a lunge for Harry, Q withdrew a red pen and aimed the barrel at the imposter, “no, sudden movements. This is a laser pistol.”

The dark-haired man laughed, low and manically, just like the mystery man on the coms, “I told you, quartermaster, don’t test me. I heard you telling the agent that the red one was just a-“

Before the man could finish, Q shot a warning shot, smirking widely, “now, when has any of my pens been normal? You have some nerve approaching me without...” Q blinked rapidly, “without...”

“Easy there, quartermaster,” the mystery man doubled, lifting one of Q’s IV’s... or was it two? “I think your meds might have been swapped.”

Q shot another shot, point blank and though he’s vision swam, he smiled when he heard the loud curse from the other man. He held the sobbing Harry tight, before his vision grew dark and he knew no more.


	10. Chapter 10

John Watson was having a typical day, a day filled with strange experiments and multiple ostrich eggs found in rather unorthodox locations- for Christ’s sake, Sherlock, it’s not Easter!- when he received a rather strange text from a blocked number.

John crinkled his brow, reading aloud to himself, “if your loved ones were in a hostage situation, would you choose to save your spouse or your baby?”

“What was that, John?” Sherlock asked, turning away from his bubbling concoction.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just a weird text I got. Probably going to delete it-“ John began the process before his phone was taken out of his hand, “hey! Careful! You have... experiment goop all over your hand-“

Sherlock frowned down at the phone, keeping John at arms length with one hand as he typed a response, before typing tossing the phone back to the irate blond, “there, I answered it for you.”

John stared at his phone, disbelief furling his brows, “you wrote and I quote- ‘the spouse. The baby wouldn’t even be aware of their predicament and you can always get another baby-?’ Sherlock, you have no idea if you are even talking to a psychopath! What if this was an actual hostage situation? The baby is the obvious logical choice-“

“Think about it, John, the spouse is a logical intelligent human being- well, statistically unlikely but hopefully- with already matured and well-formed relationships and connections to the world and the baby is not even mature enough to clean after itself,“ Sherlock replied calmly.

“But the baby has so many years ahead of it! So much potential!” John objected, “Not to mention what if your spouse wants you to save the baby rather than her/him in the first place!”

“Well, if the spouse is angry that you saved them rather than the baby, then your spouse is an idiot and he/she and the baby both deserve to die,” Sherlock muttered as he continued to fiddle with his chemicals.

“Sherlock, how could you be so callous?” John asked quietly.

“Relax, John, it’s most likely a hypothetical,” Sherlock soothed, “In what world would someone ask a random number about the fate of two individuals you’ve never met?”


	11. Chapter 11

Q’s eyes fluttered before he slammed them shut, curling his aching body involuntarily. It was a mistake. Pain rattled his every movement, penetrating every inch of him as he literally felt the blood drain out of his body. He wasn’t sure how he was even conscious. The pain was just so great.

“Holy, Mary, Jesus- Are you ok?”

He flinched, letting out a low agonizing groan as a hand shook him lightly.

“I’m so sorry- Rose, Rose, get a doctor! This boy is heavily injured!”

“H-“ Q snapped his eyes open, trying to see through through the blur, but his glasses was no where to be found, “Wher...”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” The man asked.

“Where’s Harry?” Q rasped, breathing heavily through his cracked ribs.

“I don’t know where you’re friend is, I’m sorry-“ the man answered with genuine pity in his voice.

“Harold, the ambulance is not going to arrive for at least an hour and a half-“

“I don’t... need an... ambulance,” Q tried to move before letting out a cry as he realized his left arm was bent in an odd angle.

“Oh, look at the poor dear, he’s shivering! We need to get him inside,” the woman, Rose, said.

“You’re right, love,” the man answered, “Son, can you focus on me? Tell me what’s your name.”

Q bit his lip, but he still couldn’t help the crying sob as the man lifted him, black encompassing his vision.

He jolted awake in somewhere blessedly soft and covered in blankets, unrestrained. Someone was speaking softly in another room.

“Yes, officer, I found a boy on the side of the road- he hasn’t said a name- well if he is a homeless man, I’m not about to leave him to bleed out on the side of a bloody road-“

“Are you alright there, love?”

Q flinched, causing another wave of pain to crash into him. He let out another groan, “peachy,” he growled, voice rasping, “glasses?”

“Oh, I found these frames when Harold tried to get you into he house,” she placed the frames on his face, careful not to touch any of his cuts. He was surprised to find only a small crack on the side of one glass. He’s going to have to get a new pair anyway. Maybe he should consider laser eye surgery after all this.

“Can you tell me your name?” The woman asked. She had dark brown hair and a kind face. Q blinked, not sure if he should trust her.

“Who are you?” Q groaned through gritted teeth, ignoring the question.

“I’m Rose-“

Q jolted forward when he heard a the unmistakable wailing of a baby on the other side of the wall. A gentle hand kept him down, “Love, I have to ask you to lay back down, you could hurt yourself!”

“Where is he?” Q snarled, trying to get out of the bed, “I know you’re keeping him!”

“Oh poor dear,” the woman- Rose, supposedly- turned to the doorway, “Harold, come in here! The boy’s gone delirious!”

The wailing grew louder as a man entered the room.

“Harry!” Q cried out, delirious from the pain.

“I think he means the baby, oh poor boy,” Rose said softly to her husband, “Love, she’s not your baby.”

“What are you talking about?” Q snapped before taking a moment to calm himself. Through the tears of pain, he tried to get a good look at the baby in the man’s arms. Instead of black hair, it had bushy brown hair and teary hazel eyes, no lightning bolt birthmark in sight. Q fell back into the plush bed, defeatedly, “Where... Where am I?”

“Rose, stay behind me, take the baby,” the man stepped forward, palms open, “we don’t want any trouble, son. You’re on Heathgate, Hampstead. What is your name?”

“John Hector,” Q lied, wiping his angry tears with his good arm.

“Do you know how you got here, John?” The man continued, calmly, “who hurt you?”

Flashes of dark hands, the feel of a moving vehicle under him, Harry’s sobbing wail- Q shut his eyes in barely contained frustration, gritting his teeth, “can you give me a phone? So I can call someone?”

“Oh course, John.”

The man gently placed a phone in Q’s good hand and Q dialed the direct number to Q branch. It was the number agents used in times of need. Q had memorized this number with no intention of ever dialing it, until now. One of his minions answered on the other end, “ _hello agent-“_

“Kim, it’s me,” Q said through the line, “put R on.”

There was some shuffling and multiple footsteps before a familiar voice of R came on the phone, “ _Q._ ”

“Can you get a lock on me, R?” Q croaked.

“ _Of course,”_ there was a brief pause with swift typing, “ _I’m sending a helicopter now.”_

At the corner of his eye, Q noticed that the couple looked at each other, confused.

The man asked hesitantly, “do they need an address?”

“ _Alright, we’ll keep a close eye on your location. How is your position?”_ R asked.

“Harry’s taken, R,” Q sighed, shutting his eyes, “they got him.”

He heard R stiffen on the other end before another deeper voice asked, “ _are you injured, Q?”_

Q wanted to burst into tears at 007’s voice but he managed to compose himself fractionally, voice cracking, “He’s gone, Bond... I didn’t- I couldn’t-“

“ _Shhh,”_ Bond soothed, “ _it’s ok, Q, we’ll find the bastards that did this.”_

He only stayed awake this long through shear force of will. Darkness lay at the edges of his vision. He tried not to think about 004, of how she must have felt before she died.

“Hello? Sorry, your friend is heavily injured. He’s sleeping-“

Q opened his eyes slowly. Shit did he fall asleep?

“Yes, my name is Harold- oh, you know who I am? Well, my wife and I found your friend on the side of the road. We called for an ambulance- would you need an address?”

“Oh, ok, we’ll wait then.”

The couple laid down the phone, staring at Q suspiciously.

“I know it’s not my business, but-“ Harold began.

“I work for the government,” Q answered the unspoken question which broke the tension in the room, “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have gotten caught up in this mess-”

“It’s fine, dear, we’d be happy to help our queen and country,” Rose said with a small smile.

Q must have drifted off again, because the next thing he knew was feeling Bond’s rough but gentle hand on his shoulder, “I’d like to know how you found him.”

“The misses and I were taking a walk though the country when a car pulled up down the road and dumped something into the field,” he heard Harold explain, “this being the middle of no where, it was quite the fright to see something like that happen. I found John there, still breathing, and I told Rose to phone the ambulance. He was shivering so Rose and I brought him into the house. I’m terribly sorry for what happened.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Granger, we will be taking care of things from here,” Bond said, “R, he’s incredibly weak. We’ll going to have to get him to medical right away-“

Q ripped off his oxygen mask with his good hand, reaching out to Bond with a firm grasp, wheezing, “no... not there... not safe...“

Bond nodded slowly, intelligent eyes shining with understanding, “alright, R, we’ll treat him here until we can obtain a safe house,” he turned his charming smile at the couple, “I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion. Is this alright?”

“Of course,” Rose stammered, blushing softly, “we’d gladly help our queen and country.

“My laptop...” Q made to sit up before a firm hand pushed him back into the cushions.

“We will have none of that, John,” Bond said gently, “you need to rest.”

“We have no time!” Q snarled, “get me my laptop, 007, or I swear to god-“

Bond bent down to his ear, “If you don’t settle down, quartermaster, I have permission from M to use any means necessary to stop you.”

Q blinked away tears of frustration, “if I don’t find Harry now-“

“R has Q branch working on it. You don’t have to worry,” Bond drew back.

“They have no idea what to look for!” Q snapped before deflating, feeling suddenly very tired, “James... please...”

“I’m sorry, Q,” Q felt Bond’s lips press against his forehead.

Q blinked but it was slow, sluggish.

“What did you do...” Q slurred as he felt a warm hand cover his eyes.

“Sleep.”

The last thing Q heard before he fell into bliss was what sounded like a bird smashing into the window.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I changed a part in the last chapter. Nothing major, just took out something that was pointed out to be unnecessary and obtrusive. I post daily and write these daily, so it’s pretty inevitable that I make mistakes. I’m sorry for the inconvience.

James sat stoically at the small quaint coffee shop, icy gaze scanning his surroundings. To a regular bystander, he’d be a normal patron who was people watching. What they didn’t know was that James had been there for at least an hour scoping the place before making his presence known at the quaint little shop.

The folk at the coffee shop was scarce, wearing strange robe like outfits in clashing color that looked strange and out of place in the quaint little place. Stranger still, the people wearing ‘normal’ clothing didn’t seem to notice the shop at all and that James, in his casual suit, was getting strange stares from the other patrons.

He took out a crumpled piece of paper and looked over it again, trying to grasp any hidden meaning. In a neat inked script, it said the time and address to the little shop he currently was at. If it hadn’t been for similar writing he found on the paper in Harry’s baby blanket and the peculiar way it was delivered- by the wings of a barn owl for heaven’s sake- Bond would not have come to the address at all.

“Ah, thank you for coming. Can I interest you in anything? The food here is absolutely delightful, Mr. Bond.”

James did not startle or twitch. All he did was fold the paper back into his coat pocket and flashed a charming smile at the older gentleman as if the man hadn’t just surprised him, “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Dumbledore.”

“Please, call me Albus,” The older man’s baby blue eyes twinkled with innocent mirth as he waved what looked like a stick in the air, “I’m terribly sorry we had to meet this way. How is your friend? I believe his name is Elias.”

Suddenly, the conversation around them became muffled, but James’ attention did not stray away from this strange gentleman.

“Elias is doing fine,” James smiled showing all teeth. This man was not to be trifled with.

“You played a cruel joke on your friend, Mr. Bond,” Albus chided softly, “One does not force a baby onto one’s friend without consulting him first. Having a child is an enormous responsibility.”

“Is that why you left a baby on a random house’s doorstep in the middle of the night?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That was for his protection. You see, Harry would have lived a very normal, safe life with the Dursleys until he reached age 11,” the older man looked at him pointedly, “I can’t say the same for his safety when he’s with you.”

“Why did you let me take him then?” James asked icily.

“Harry has a hard life ahead of him. A life full of trials, he and he alone has to face,” Albus frowned, “I thought, if he was in your care, he’d learn much earlier how to protect himself from the darkness that follows him. This will not be the last time he will be attacked.”

“Our line of work is dangerous. How could you ever think that he wouldn’t be in danger every minute of his life if he was with me?”

“Why hadn’t you thought of that when you first adopted him?” Albus countered.

James smiled coldly, “I wanted to give my quartermaster a reason to trust me.”

“I am not a fool, Mr. Bond,” Albus smiled serenely, “he reminds you of the one you love dearly. Someone who’d you protect with your life.”

James gave nothing away outwardly, but inwardly, he flinched. How was this man so perceptive?

“And in return, you’d protect Harry with your life,” Albus slid a paper in front of him.

James unfolded the paper to see another address and time scribbled on it in the same neat script, and frowned, eyes shadowed in understanding, “this place...”

“I can trust you understand the implications from the address alone,” Albus folded his ancient hands in front of him, “Its a particularly dreadful place...”

“Thank you,” James pocketed the paper in his opposite pocket, “what is going to happen when Harry turns 11?”

But when James looked up, the seat ahead of him was empty and conversation around him resumed.


	13. Chapter 13

“How is he?”

R snapped her head towards James as he spoke, hand reaching for her pistol, before she relaxed, “James, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that...”

007 only raised a blonde brow in response.

R sighed, turning her attention back to Q, “the doctors say it’ll take him several months to recover.”

“You should go back to Q branch. Heavens knows what the minions are doing without their quartermaster’s command,” Bond walked over to the bed, pulling Q’s dark locks away from his eyes, “I’ll take over for now.”

“Alright,” R answered knowingly, standing up, “I’ll entrust our quartermaster in your capable hands, 007.”

Once R left the room, James looked back at the younger man in the bed, eyes scanning the discolorations on pale skin, “how long are you going to pretend to sleep, Q?”

“However long it’ll take for you to go to the loo,” Q grouched through his oxygen mask.

James smiled with all his teeth as he sat down on the bed beside Q, “and what do you plan to do when I go to the loo?”

“Rip off all these offending cords and jump out the nearest window.”

James wagged a finger playfully in front of Q, “Naughty, naughty quartermaster.”

Q snapped off the oxygen mask, rasping as he snarled, “Give. Me. My laptop!”

“Now, now, Q. All work and no play makes for a dull quartermaster,” James cooed, petting Q’s dark curls.

“Stop playing-“ Q began, making an effort to sit up, before a coughing fit took over.

“You aren’t needed, Q,” James said softly, “I’ve found where he is.”

“Where?” Q gasped, reaching to feel for his elusive glasses, “I can-“

James leaned down, holding Q’s face in his hands, “what use are you to him, weak and injured as you are?”

“I will not lay down when he’s out there somewhere,“ Q breathed, challenge blazing in his swollen eyes.

James Bond was a creature of instinct, of thoughtless action. So when he leaned down to smash their lips together, he didn’t question why he did it.

“James,” Q gasped softly against 007’s lips.

“I like it when you say my name,” James chuckled roughly.

Q rested his head against Bond’s shoulder, blinking rapidly, “l- I-“

“I will find him, Q. I’ll bring him back to you. Then you give me an answer-“ 007 whispered in his ear before Q grabbed James by the collar and smashed their lips together.

“There is your answer,” Q snarled, resting his head against Bond’s, “find him, then come back to me.”

Bond chuckled, wrapping his arms around Q as he brought the kiss to a gentle close, “As you wish, quartermaster.”


	14. Chapter 14

  
“...priceless authentic Chinese rug...”

Lucius zoned out the proceeding description, questioning his reason for coming to this illegal muggle auction in the first place.

His informant had mentioned that some ancient magical artifact was going to be auctioned at this specific address that no other wizards or witches knew about. Lucius had paid handsomely for that information. As he sat through item after item, Lucius began to doubt that claim.

He really needed to fire that informant. Then ruin the informant’s credibility. Then the informant’s marriage. Yes, Lucius smiled, that would be only fitting for a squib who wasted a Malfoy’s valuable time and money. Time that could have been spent with Draco-

“Now! For the next item! Can I excite you gents with...”

Lucius rolled his eyes. Not only the auction was a ridicules farce, the muggle auctioneer was an absolute buffoon. James Moriarty, consulting criminal- the man made a note to mention his name and ‘profession’ at any possible opportunity- expressed so much enthusiasm for each piece being sold that Lucius was sure the man thought each item was magical in some way.

“This semiautomatic...”

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” A voice purred besides him.

Lucius cast a sideways glance at the man. The muggle was good looking, dark hair, high cheek bones, sharp blue eyes behind a pair of lenses, wearing a fashionable dark suit and a rather charming smile- if Lucius didn’t know better, he’d say the man could have been a wizard from a noble family.

“It is not,” Lucius said in challenge.

There was a reason the seats beside him were empty. The muggles here, though finely dressed, were nothing but common backwater criminals, not even even coming close to the noble wealth and power that Lucius had. They instinctively feared Lucius, sitting far away from him as if he was the wolf among rabbits.

This rabbit, it seemed, was fearless. He sat casually next to Lucius, sharp eyes staring at the muggle auctioneer icily, ignoring Lucius’ presence entirely.

They sat in silence as the auctioneer began dragging item after worthless item to the stand. Lucius was about to consider just leaving when the auctioneer clapped twice, “bring out the main attraction, boys!”

Two huge men- both of which Lucius could have sworn could have a drop of Giant blood in them- carried out a small chest, a chest that was rattling and shaking. Lucius could practically see the magic spewing out of it. So, he didn’t need to ruin the informant’s life after all.

“Let the bidding commence!” Moriarty said with a flourish.

As the other patrons began bidding with rather laughable amounts, Lucius only smiled primly, raising his bidding card-

“Five hundred thousand,” the voice beside him stated calmly.

There were gasps in the crowd and low mummers as Lucius raised a delicate brow at his neighbor, “one million.”

The entire room went quiet.

The muggle smiled fractionally, challenge glittering in his cold blue eyes, “two million.”

“Ten million,” Lucius smirked.

“Twenty million,” the muggle countered easily.

Lucius smiled viciously, “you can’t win this.”

“Can’t I?” The muggle challenged.

“One hundred million,” Lucius bid.

“Two hundred million.”

“One billion,” Lucius gritted his teeth. He was getting annoyed at this brazen muggle.

There was a collective gasp before silence fell once again.

The mortal only raised a dark brow, “two billion.”

“One. Hundred. Billion,” Lucius seethed. Muggle money didn’t matter to him. He could caste the illusion of muggle wealth that would disappear once someone used it. It was highly illegal... if he was caught that was.

It seemed the other didn’t much care about muggle money either, “one trillion.”

“Enough!”

Both men turned to the stage as Moriarty threw one hand in the air, “let’s settle this another way, shall we, boys? After all, we are all criminals here!”

The mad muggle allowed a brief pause where the crowd catcalled and affirmed the man’s words.

“Come up here! Let’s have a look at you two!” The man waved enthusiastically with his one hand.

Lucius followed his neighbor calmly to the stage, a frown crossing his features. There was something fishy going on here.

“Now there’s a reason I put up this amaaaazing show for you all tonight! You all know, I don’t do it for the money, my friends,” Moriarty clapped both Lucius’ and his neighbor’s shoulders in false camaraderie, “I do it to meet new people! Isn’t that what this is all about? Making friends?”

Confused muttering flooded the crowd of muggles below.

Lucius’ frown deepened. He had wasted his precious time and money to be here. He peeled off the offending hand, wrinkling his nose as if he touched something disgusting (which he had), “kindly-“

“You see,” the muggle wandered away from the two of them, “these gents are not who they seem. One of them,” he waved towards Lucius’ companion, “is a lying, scheming MI6 spy, the notorious 007-“

A loud furious roar of disapproval and curses came from the audience members below.

The well-mannered muggle said nothing, calmly allowing himself to be held back by one of the giant men.

“Yes! Thank you! Took the words right out of my mouth!” Moriarty smiled wryly, “now, the other! This man here!” The mad muggle waved a hand to Lucius, smile turning utterly insane, “he’s, how you say... magical!”

Lucius had had enough of this foolishness. He reached down in his pocket...

“Looking for this?” Moriarty held up- Lucius’ eyes went wide- his wand was being held by a mad muggle.

“Give that here, you-“ he stopped mid-stride. The other giant man was standing in his way.

“You see, gents, I am not after money... I’m after something bigger then you can fathom!” Moriarty continued, waving Lucius’ wand, “you see, this man here,” he pointed the wand at Lucius’ seething face, “is a wizard!”

More confused grumbling flooded the crowd, but Lucius face went white. Without his wand, he was practically helpless. What was this mad man going to do?

“‘Now, Jim!’ You might be saying, ‘you’re mad! There’s no such thing as wizards!’ Well, my dear friends! Here’s where I prove you wrong! Take it away, Sebastian!”

Another man crept out of the shadows and opened the heavy lock on the still rattling case on the floor. Instantly, the case flew open and a loud wail of a baby could be heard throughout the room. Lucius stared at the contents in disbelief.

“‘Now, Jim!’ You might be saying,” Moriarty yelled over the wailing, “‘that’s just a baby!’ My dear friends! This is not any old baby! This is a magical baby! A baby that will grow to be a wizard! A rather lucky find, wouldn’t you say!”

The crowd muttered and murmured, staring at the auctioneer as if he’d gone mad.

“But, my dear friends, I’m a master criminal, not a nanny. I can’t wait for this baby to grow up and learn wizardy things! I have things to do, places to be, people to kill!” The mad man snarled, spitting in the MI6 spy’s face, “So, I thought of the perfect plan.”

He stepped towards Lucius, “you see, a fully grown wizard is waaaay more fun than a baby,” he circled Lucius as if inspecting furniture, “they know all the tips and tricks- all the wizardy things already. They’re easier to work with than a baby, so I thought, why not bring one to me! So,” he stopped in front of the seething wizard, eyes bright and very insane, “what’s your name, beautiful?”

“You’re barking mad!” Lucius spat.

“Why, thank you!” Moriarty turned to the crowd, “isn’t he just charming! I think we’re making progress!” He turned back to Lucius, “now, what are your hobbies? Mine are killing people-“

Lucius made a grab for his wand, but the auctioneer stepped out of his reach, “now, now, that’s playing dirty!”

“Give me that and I’ll show you magic,” Lucius purred with a sly grin.

“Well, isn’t that just perfect! He said he’ll show me magic! On the first date too! I’m soooo flattered,” Moriarty feigned a swooning pose, hand at his heart, “but, I’m sorry, love. I can’t give you back your stick just yet! I have to break you first! Make you mine-“

Suddenly, the muggle lights flickered out as if someone in the audience was using a deluminator.

The next thing that happened went by so quick that Lucius could not explain what happened even if he could see in the dark.

The well-mannered MI6 spy threw the giant over his shoulder, snapping the man’s neck in the process before slamming a fist into the auctioneer’s left shoulder, causing the mad muggle to buckle as red stained the fabric of his suit. As the lights flickered back on, before anyone could react, the not so well-mannered spy aimed a small thin cylindrical object at the auctioneer’s forehead, “so nice to finally meet you, Jim. Q sends his regards.”

“I thought I told you to confiscate pens from anyone who enters!” The auctioneer hissed at his associates, eyes mad before his smile joined the insanity, “no matter, drop the pen, 007. You are outnumbered.”

“Really?” The agent raised a brow, turning his attention to the audience at large, “are you going to take this from a man who conned you?”

As the crowd yelled insults at the agent, the muggle calmly pressed something in his left ear, “show them, R.”

Some kind of moving light shone against the white screen on stage and Lucius gathered that it must have said something incriminating because the audience members began to yell and curse, climbing onto the stage in a huge mob.

“Now, now, my friends!” Moriarty said shakily, “who are you going to believe! This lying scheming double crossing agent of the government or little ol’ me-!”

“The numbers don’t lie, Moriarty!” A mousy man said in the front of the crowd, “this whole auction was a goddamn con- wasn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” the mad muggle laughed nervously, turning to one of his associates, “would you, Sebastian?”

The muggle stepped forward from behind the wailing case, drawing a muggle weapon.

Chaos erupted as the mob swarmed forward, drawing concealed weapons of their own to combat the auctioneer’s men.

Lucius ducked between the men, trying to find cover when an arm grabbed him, swiftly and skillfully maneuvering the wizard through the dense angry mob and into the streets and fresh air.

Lucius coughed, choking on gun smoke. Rage coursed through his veins. It had all been a bloody setup! He had wasted his time for a bloody mudblood infant! Ohhhh, he was going to eviscerate that informant’s wife and children in front of the informant!

“Are you alright?”

Lucius looked up at his bemused savior and spat, “do I look bloody alright to you!”

The well mannered MI6 agent grinned wryly, rocking a sickly babe in his arms, “I did try to warn you.”

“When? When the bloody hell did you try to warn me?” Lucius hissed.

“When I continued to bid against you,” the man chuckled.

Lucius could feel a huge headache flaring up. He had no wand, no way of getting home, nothing for all his trouble. Worst of all, he was saved by a muggle. He owed a life debt to a _bloody muggle_. His ancestors would never live this down. _He_ would never live this down. He stood up primly, patting down his torn clothes and started walking away, ready to wipe his hands of the whole ordeal.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lucius turned to see his wand pointing at his face. He snatched instinctively, inspecting it for damage before he looked back at the smirking muggle, “thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Lucius wanted to wipe the offending smirk off the muggles face. He could, with his wand, but that would have been in poor taste. Especially since the muggle had saved him...

“Wait!” Lucius gritted out as the muggle turned to leave, “I... I owe you a life debt.”

The muggle raised a brow in response, but Lucius refused to explain himself.

“Alright,” the muggle said with his damned smirk, “we’ll keep in touch.”

As Lucius watched the muggle leave, he hissed out, “If we meet again it will be too soon,” before he turned around and disapparated out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a lot of trouble with the chapter. Still not happy with it. Oh well.


	15. Chapter 15

“Q.”

Q burled himself into the pillow, trying to block out the noise and sun.

“Q.”

He refused to move, preferring to stay motionless until the annoying voice went away.

“Ku!”

“That’s right, Harry. Q.”

He blinked his eyes open lazily, turning his head towards the voices. Bond- no, James was laying on the other side of the bed, bouncing a very happy Harry on his knee. Q’s eyes softened at the sight.

It had been two months since James had returned with a very sick Harry. A difficult two months, full of monitoring both Harry’s health and the network of Q branch while in bed still recovering from his injuries. Q wasn’t fully healed, but he could walk around now without crutches so he called that a win.

Luckily, James had been there to help. M had tried to assign him missions, even tried to entice him with more dangerous ones, but James had only shook his head with that damned smile of his and said, “I’m needed here.”

After that, M just gave up and let him be.

“Finally awake, love?”

Q accepted the rough kiss, wrapping his arms around James’ shoulders, “mmm.”

“Ku! Ku! Da!”

James chuckled gruffly, rubbing his stubble against Q’s cheek, “I taught Harry a new word.”

“A letter of the alphabet is hardly considered a new word,” Q grouched, “what time is it?”

“5:30.”

“Am? Wow, I woke up early for once-“

“In the evening.”

Q threw his head back, eyes wide, “WHAT!”

“Q-“

“How could you have let me oversleep!” Q tried to scramble out of James’ arms, but the man’s arms were too strong, “we’re late!”

“Q-“

“Unhand me, you brute! I’m not even- I don’t even know what to wear- oh god! What is Harry going to wear-“ Q panicked.

“Q, I was joking!” James laughed loud and genuine, “it’s 1:34 pm! You have plenty of time!”

Q stilled in bed before slamming a pillow into James’ still laughing face, “you ass. That was completely uncalled for. This is a very serious matter.”

“What? New Years with your parents?” James bemused.

“Yeah, you dolt! My parents are extra!” Q pouted, “anyway, let me out! I need to shower!”

“Want me to join you?” James purred into Q’s ear.

Q swore he turned beet red, “I’m fine, thanks. Now get off of me, you brute!”

After they got ready, James in the peak of fashion and couture in a dark suit with a wine red button down underneath while Q wore a lumpy ugly Christmas sweater and some jeans.

“I thought this was a New Years party,” James bemused.

“Yeah, but, since this is the one time of the year we all come together, we like to celebrate both Christmas and New Years together,” Q grouched, scratching at the uncomfortable texture of the sweater, “why are you so dressed up? Mummy specifically said not to dress up-“

James pecked him on the cheek, “you’re adorable.”

“Not as much as Harry,” Q flushed.

And he was right.

Harry was lovingly dressed in a ugly Christmas sweater onesie and was so adorable that Q cooed after him for a good ten minutes, though if anyone other than James ever brought it up, he’d deny it with every inch of his life.

 


	16. Chapter 16

“Sherlock, dear, it’s so good of you to join us.“

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, mummy,” Sherlock replied smoothly, giving his mother a hug and a kiss.

“We both know that isn’t true, love,” Lydia Holmes smiled mischievously, “You forget everything when you’re on the case. Doesn’t he, John?”

“Wouldn’t be Sherlock if he didn’t,” John laughed as Sherlock flushed, giving John the stink eye.

“Now, now, boys, come in! Come in!” The elder Holmes matriarch clapped both of them on the shoulder, “Make yourselves home!“

“Is Elias here?” Sherlock asked, making a cursory glance about room as he entered.

“Elias and his beau are here somewhere. They fell in a spot of trouble a couple months back so don’t be too hard on them,” Holmes shared a knowing look with Sherlock, “if you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

John stared as she all but vanished in the throng of strangers laughing and talking in their little groups, he turned to Sherlock, “I thought you said this was a private occasion?”

“It is,” Sherlock answered distractedly, looking after where his mother had disappeared.

“Then who are all these people?” John asked.

Sherlock waved John’s question off dismissively, “they’re just good friends of my parents; they come every year.”

John stared at the crowd. Everyone were well dressed in dark suits or fashionable dresses, talking and laughing. John swore he saw the British prime minister in the crowd. He swallowed, feeling underdressed in his jumper and baggy trousers.

Sherlock muttered to himself, “in a spot of trouble? What could he have- he never- Mummy is worried. What could have-“

“Sherlock?” John tried to grab his boyfriend’s attention, “do your parents know the prime minister?”

“Stay here, John,” Sherlock muttered, looking rather troubled, “I have to talk to Mycroft. He must know something-“

That was how John was left alone in the large elaborate atrium of Holmes manor, in a crowd of important strangers.

“Right,” John sighed, muttering to himself, “just like old times then. Everyone’s in their underwear, John, everyone’s in their fancy lacy underwear-“

He wandered through the house in search of Sherlock, but, the more he walked, the more lost he got. There were way too many rooms and all the hallways looked identical. When he walked into another large elaborate living room, he gave up. So he stood there, alone, too intimidated by the expensive furniture to sit on them. He sighed again, taking out his phone to check his text messages.

“Lost?” A voice purred at his shoulder.

John jumped, juggling with his phone before it fell out of his grasp and slid across the floor.

A tall handsome blonde man in an immaculate suit that screamed money knelt down and picked up John’s phone.

“Oh, thanks so much-“ John began gratefully, reaching out to receive his phone while the stranger stared at the screen with a slight frown.

“My apologies for scaring you,” the man said smoothly, “you talk to rather strange people.”

“What do you mean?” John grouched.

The man showed him his message app, it was open to-

“Oh- I-“ John replied, flustered, “no, that was a random message from moooonths ago, that I should have deleted, uh-“

“I have to agree with you,” icy blue eyes seemed to stare straight through him, “I’d also go with the spouse.”

“Oh?” John frowned, “that’s where Sherlock and I disagreed. I’d actually choose the baby rather then the spouse if I had to choose.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“The baby has so much potential, so much life going for it. It’s also more fragile and can’t argue its way out of the kidnapping,” John explained.

“Hmmm,” the stranger paused, “I think I can understand your point of view,” long elegant fingers fiddling with John’s phone, “You said this was a random message from a few months back?”

“Yes,” John said cautiously.

The stranger typed something into the phone, before closing and returning it to John, “you shouldn’t answer random texts you receive on your phone.”

“Thanks...” John trailed off as the man flashed a dark but charming smile his way before leaving the room.

John was about to open his phone when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder, “John! John! What are you doing here all on your lonesome!”

“Greg!” John laughed in relief, pocketing his phone, “what are you doing here?”

The police inspector gave a hearty chuckle, “the Holmes family always invite me to these things and who could pass on rich wine! Oh, and Sherlock is looking for you-“

John gratefully followed Lestrade through the maze of the manor, catching up on the goings on of the police force. Greg must be black out drunk because he was slurring his words and stumbling into walls, but, strangely enough, he knew the way through the manor.

“Anderson’s so jealous,” Greg laughed, “he always begs to come along with me, but I told him! I told him-“

“There you are, James,” John stilled as another hand grabbed his shoulder, “I’m sorry, mister prime minister, you’ll have to excuse me.”

“I’m not-“ John began when he was met with the pleading gray eyes of a slender man, giggling babe in one arm, “I mean, yes, um-“

“That’s quite aright, I’ll leave you two to it,” the actual bloody British prime minister nodded to the both of them before wandering off.

John gaped at the receding back of the leader of Great Britain before scanning the room for Lestrade to find him long gone.

“Thank you so much for playing along,” the young father said graciously, genuinely grateful, “if I had to hear one more policy about net neutrality-“ the man gave a small sigh, “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about that.”

“That’s quite alright,” John answered, wondering how this young man could be so important that the prime minister would pester him, “what are you doing here alone? Where’s your wife?”

“My partner abandoned me right when he got into the building,” the man sighed again, rocking the baby subconsciously.

“Really?” John frowned as he thought how irresponsible said partner was for leaving this young man alone with a baby.

The man must have interpreted John’s frown because he sighed, “he didn’t abandon me per say. It’s just- he had been ignoring his job for so long, because of me and Harry here, you see, so his boss was quite cross with him. He had to step out to take a call.”

“I can help you look for him if you like,” John offered but the young father shook his head.

“I’m sure he’ll sneak up on me when I least expect it,” the man said wryly.

John smiled, extending a hand, “I’m John Watson.”

“Elias,” the man replied smiling conspiratorially, juggling with the infant to shake John’s hand, “I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Watson.”

“Oh!” John’s eyes lit up, remembering Sherlock mentioning the young man’s name, “Sherlock’s mentioned you!”

The man raised a delicate brow, “did he now?”

“Yes, well,” John coughed, “he only mentioned your name tonight... anyway, how are you related to the Holmes?”

The man blinked several times before he threw his head back and laughed brightly, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t mentioned. I’m Elias. Elias Holmes.”

John felt his stomach drop. He grabbed a drink from tray and drained his embarrassment and the contents down his throat. When he was done, he coughed, “oh, right then. I’m terribly sorry, I-“

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Elias smiled, “Sherlock doesn’t mention his brothers often. I understand. Not as often as he rambles about you.”

John felt his cheeks flush, “he rambles about me?”

“Oh, nonstop. He’s mad about you, John,” Elias waved a hand, “I’ve had to mute my phone when he gushed in text about how he first met you. It was cute at first but after a week nonstop it got annoying.”

“Don’t listen to him, John, Elias is a master in lies.”

John’s face went pink, turning to face his partner, “Sherlock-“

“Oh really, brother. Do you want me to show John proof?” Elias said, taking out his phone.

Sherlock immediately grabbed the phone out of Elias’ hand and chucked it into the cheese fondue.

“Sherlock!” John gasped, scandalized.

“It’s alright, John, he has plenty of phones,” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at the giggling babe, “when did you get _that_?”

“Oh, you must be dying to know. And no, Sherlock, you can’t put him through social experiments or any experiments for that matter,” Elias rolled his eyes.

“You never wanted children, Elias,” Sherlock frowned.

“Sherlock! You can’t say that-“

“It’s quite alright, John. He’s right. I never wanted a baby. James just popped this one in my office one day and made sure I couldn’t refuse,” Elias grouched.

“Are you badmouthing me, Q?” Strong arms wrapped around Elias’ torso, causing the younger man to yelp in surprise.

“Da! Da!” The baby clapped, giggling.

John mouth fell open. The tall blonde man from before bent down to steal a kiss from Elias.

“James, I told you not to embarrass me in front of family,” Elias grouched, flushing a bright crimson.

“Oh?” Cold blue eyes stared at John, “and who are these fine men?”

Elias frowned, noting something strange with James’ behavior, “this is Sherlock, my older brother, and John Watson, my older brother’s future husband.”

John and Sherlock began spluttering at those words but James only chuckled darkly, eyes never leaving John’s, “The prime minister had great things to say about you and I.”

Elias stilled, “did he?”

“Yes,” James kissed his partner’s dark curls, “though he was confused when M introduced me. Which reminds me...” the blonde man bent down to whisper something into Elias’ ear, which caused the young father’s eyes to grow wide and angry.

“I told those idiots- please, excuse me,” the brown haired man turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sherlock and John with this dangerous psychopath. John was sure of it. It was inevitable for John to meet psychopaths when you had Sherlock for a boyfriend and John was sure this man was more dangerous that Moriarty himself.

James’ cool eyes stayed on them as he bowed, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. John. Sherlock.”

As the man disappeared in the crowd, John rounded on Sherlock, “what did you see?”

Sherlock blinked, “what?”

“About your brother’s partner, what did you see?” John demanded.

“John...” Sherlock sighed, “whatever you’re thinking...”

“That man has to be dangerous! Hell, he could be a serial killer! How could you let your little brother-“ John hissed.

“He’s not a serial killer; he’s a trained assassin for the government,” Sherlock said calmly, softly, as if tying to smooth a frightened animal.

John stilled, blood draining from his face, “what?”

“What do you know about MI6, John?” Sherlock asked.

John felt his knees go weak, “don’t tell me... is he part of the double-o program?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “how do you know about that?”

“Well, is he?” John demanded.

Sherlock pursed his lips, “his full designation is 007.”

John needed a drink. Two drinks. Hell, a whole barrel.

He had worked with MI6 during the war. Had heard rumors of what the agents did in their line of work. Had seen the deadly aftermath of their ruthless pursuit for information in the name of the crown. The double-o’s were said to be worse.

John had been alone with one of the most dangerous man in all of Britain. A man who could kill him without repercussions. He needed two barrels.

“John, don’t overreact. You’re quite safe,” Sherlock grouched.

“How’s that?” John asked shakily, taking out his phone.

“I won’t let it happen,” Sherlock pouted, throwing his arms around John, “what are you looking at-“ his brows furled, “oh.”

There was a new message from John to the unknown number.

_Touch my family again and I’ll kill you, slowly :) -007._

They both stared at the message for a couple minutes.

“This changes things...” Sherlock said, hand on his chin in deep thought.

“I want to go home,” John said.

“But-“ Sherlock began.

“No, we’re going home. Now. I’m going to-“ John looked down at his phone, “burn this phone, in a fire, and get a new one. Then we’re moving to Russia-“

“I wouldn’t suggest moving to Russia.”

They both snapped their heads to see Elias standing there, straight-faced. John continued to babble, “Then America, they have places. To live-“

“The Moon looks nice in the pictures,” a voice purred from behind Elias.

“ _Great_ idea-“ John’s frantic voice faded as he realized who was behind the young father.

“James, stop scaring my poor future brother-in-law,” Elias frowned at his partner, “apologize.”

“I will not hurt you, John Watson. Do be careful who you text next time,” 007 chuckled, wrapping his arms around Elias, “satisfied, Q?”

“Yes,” the young father turned to John, “can I have your phone?”

“Of course,” John spluttered as he handed Elias the phone.

“Thank you,” Elias said as he opened the phone without the password and began typing, “MI6 will compensate you a new phone and phone number in 3 business days,” Elias slapped one of the most dangerous men in the world on the face, “James, don’t send threats through texts. They’re traceable.”

After they disappeared again, John turned to Sherlock, “what does your brother do?”

“You don’t want to know,” Sherlock answered.

**~End of Baby in a Blanket~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap! Thank you all for reading! I’m going to take a brief break to rewind myself and prepare for the next chapter in Harry’s life. Hope to see you all in the next one! ^^


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